


These Tears, They Tell Their Own Story

by Lemon_Drizzle



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Gen, Nonbinary Mollymauk Tealeaf, OC Lore Dump, One Shot, Self-Insert, Spoilers, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15977513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Drizzle/pseuds/Lemon_Drizzle
Summary: This is a canon divergent one-shot, taking place during one of The Mighty Nein's unnaccounted-for nights between Berleben and Hupperdook, so somewhere in the middle of Episode 23. And then it jumps to a point somewhere during Episode 30. So...spoilers.Caleb and Nott have first watch, and Nott's senses pick up something out there in the long grass.





	These Tears, They Tell Their Own Story

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Sam Smith's "Lay Me Down."

On a dark, chilly night along the road between Berleben and Hupperdook, a hundred or so feet from the well-traveled path into the endless tall grass, there rested a cart, six horses, and seven adventurers. And a bird-child. And a cat. A hundred or so feet away from this menagerie, parallel to the road, something watched them.

A pale yellow tiefling, hooded in her deep gray cloak to blend into the darkness, sized up the group, crouched low in the grass that reached up her waist. A human man, with the cat scarfed around his neck, and someone small and green beside him—perhaps a half-orc child—it was hard to tell from this distance—sat close to a modest fire, and a spark of yearning jetted through her gut. The rest of the party were just bundles around the wagon, probably asleep.

The tiefling inched forward until she was inside fifty feet of them, looked down at her cloak to be sure that her weapons were hidden, straightened up, and took a step closer to the camp.

The small green one was gone.

Something whizzed past the left of her face, and as she pivoted her torso to avoid the hit, another something, skinny and sharp, pierced the chain mail at her right shoulder, where she hadn’t gotten around to mending a tiny imperfection.

A pained growl rumbled in her throat, and her golden eyes went black. When she glanced at the damage, she saw a crossbow bolt embedded deep in the muscles and sinews through her cloak, tunic, mail, and quilting. That was going to be a bitch to pull out. And it was going to be an even bigger bitch to heal.

“Caleb, I hit it!” a shrill voice cried from the depths of the meadow. “From way back here, did you see?”

She followed the sound thirty feet to the left of the camp, still fifty feet from her, to the form barely poking out of the grass, and raised her finger to the fiend too impatient in its attempt to flank her.

“I just wanted your fire!” she screamed in Infernal, but if the small one didn’t understand the language, it would just sound like she was hissing and cursing at it.

As the Hellish Rebuke took effect, the green creature answered with its own scream, high and terrified. “Aah, it burns! It burns! It’s burning me! _It’s burning me_!”

“Hey, you fucking piece of fucking shit, pick on someone your own fucking size!” the human shouted, and she turned to him just in time to see three rays of fire burst from his clenched gloved fist and sail toward her, too fast for her to react. They struck her in the chest and shoulder, not hurting as much as they should have, but the force spun her around and off her equilibrium.

Heavy footsteps fell fast and near to her right, and she did her best to shoulder into it as something big and tall came rushing in and threw its arms around her to try and grapple her. She braced herself as the thing tried to restrain her from behind and bring her to the ground, and swung her head back, hitting hard chest. But her skull was harder. It knocked the wind out of the tall one, by the harsh gasp she heard, and she freed herself from its grasp.

Something that felt oddly like a foot landed painfully across her cheek, and she flexed her jaw to pop it back into place before ducking down low to the ground and sweeping her tail forward under the legs of the new figure at her side, knocking them prone. She muttered a few words under her breath, and the young woman, in blue robes and wearing some sort of goggles, grabbed the sides of her head.

“I’m blind!” she cried out, more of a warning to the others than a lament for herself. “I’m fucking blind! I can’t see shit! It knows magic! It’s a _fucking_ spell-slinger!”

A sharp crackling, followed by the sound of a splash of water, drew her attention back toward the camp and the warm glow of the fire. A half-orc, armor shimmering in the light like ice, had drawn his falchion, and she could appreciate the curiosity of the barnacles working their way up the blade before he pointed the weapon at her and fired two beams of energy straight at her from the slightly hooked end of it. Throwing back her hood and the sides of her cloak, she drew her maul from behind her back, swung, and sent the blasts out into the sky, one after the other, where they fizzled out into nothing.

“That fucking maul is almost taller than _she_ is!” the incredulous half-orc exclaimed.

From beside him, a short blue tiefling held out her hands, and an enormous swirled lollipop materialized between her and the outer group and began flying through the air toward the interloper. The yellow tiefling braced for impact.

“Everyone just wait a moment!” an amplified voice boomed, and everybody froze, instinctively rather than magically. The lollipop halted, suspended in mid-air fifteen feet from the trespasser.

The yellow tiefling kept her maul raised over her shoulder and ready, warily keeping an eye on those around her and on the red-eyed lavender tiefling who had just stepped out from behind the cart, two glowing scimitars drawn but at their side. Their white shirt hung open, revealing dozens if not hundreds of scars across their torso and neck. Adding that to the piercings and bedazzlings on the curved horns, the tousled purple hair, the multicolored coat, the harlequin trousers, and the thigh-high boots, they made quite a sight.

“I like her,” they said, making their way gracefully to the three in closest combat.

“You don’t even know her!” the small green one screeched, scrambling closer while using both hands close to their chest to keep a bead on the stranger with their hand crossbow, and the stranger realized that what she had assumed was a half-orc child seemed a fully-grown but still quite young girl goblin. “She burned me!”

“You shot her!” the flamboyant tiefling reminded their diminutive traveling companion. “It’s a defense mechanism! And Yasha grabbed her, so she broke free, like anyone would. Sorry, Yasha. How are you, dear?”

“I am…bruised but not broken,” the pale hulking woman replied, helping up the young human woman in the blue robes.

“I still can’t fucking see!” she pointed out, and the yellow tiefling dropped the spell directly.

The dark-skinned young woman shook her head to clear away the last of the darkness from her eyes and looked the newcomer up and down. Pale yellow skin with rust-colored freckles across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, pupil-less golden eyes, sharp canines. What stood out most was the short and wavy lavender hair above a low, almost crown-like ridge of bony knobs around her head. The knobs in back were longer and sharper than the ones to the sides, and the human could see how a blow from those could one-up the hold of her large barbarian friend.

Her dark gray cloak was long and thick, with slits up the sides to free her arms while still keeping her body warm and protected. The clothes she wore were simple but clean, if a bit rumpled, and there were many hasty patches and repairs on each garment with a lot of black thread. The human seemed to take small satisfaction from the trickle of blood at the corner of the tiefling’s mouth from her mid-air kick.

“So, what are we gonna do with her?” she started to say.

“Are we killing it, or no?” the other human shouted bluntly from the fireside.

“No!” the lavender tiefling called back in frustration. “If you’d bothered to learn the language of your horned friends, instead of the hoity-toity fey and celestials—cry your pardon, Yasha—you’d know she means no harm. She just wants to warm up by the fire.”

“Is that what she was screaming at me?” the goblin wondered. “I thought she was putting a hex on me.”

“Ours is not a soft, romantic tongue, I’m afraid,” the tall tiefling sighed. “But it has its moments. And really, Jester, your Spiritual Weapon? You could understand her too. You knew she wasn’t trying to hurt us.”

“I was just making sure,” the blue tiefling returned, though somewhat repentantly, and her voice invoked a fleeting and intangible feeling to the yellow tiefling of sunshine and sandy beaches. The lollipop vanished.

“You three head back to the fire,” the lavender tiefling suggested to their friends. “I’ll walk the lady up.”

The barbarian nodded and led the other two away cautiously, the goblin backing away with the crossbow still aimed at the new arrival.

“Nott, put that thing down, or else I’ll take it away,” her colorful comrade warned gently.

“I’d like to see you try,” the goblin retorted, but she dropped the weapon to her side, still backing away to keep a narrow eye on the intruder.

The tiefling turned to their guest and smiled a sharp yet genial smile. “My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Welcome to our camp. The fire’s warm, and the company has its charms. I must say, I’ve never seen quite a set of horns like yours before. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. But I’ve only been alive for two years, so who knows. And what may I call you in the brief time we might spend together this fine evening?”

The yellow tiefling hesitated, the maul still raised, her tail curling around one of her legs nervously.

“I understand,” Mollymauk soothed, sheathing one of their scimitars. “We can be a bit much. And you put up a hell of a fight, but we easily outnumber you. If it means anything, I give you my word that I won’t let the others hurt you. Well, any more than they already have, anyway.” They gestured with their chin at the bolt in her shoulder. “And we have someone who could take a look at that for you.”

After another tense moment, as the small tiefling sized up the taller one, trying to decide if she could trust them or not, her freckled tail unfurled from her leg, and she lowered her large weapon.

“Ini…” She took a deep breath. “Inivari.”

“Pleasure.” They bowed with a flourish of their free hand, and, with a fleeting grin, turned their back on her as they slowly led her over to the others. She followed, dragging the maul beside her in the long grass.

As they drew near, she studied the tuskless half-orc with a streak of white in his short dark hair, the blue tiefling who smelled like pastries, and the dusty human looking at a spot over her shoulder rather than making direct eye contact.

The half-orc stepped forward. “Name’s Fjord.”

Inivari nodded in acknowledgment but withheld her own.

“That’s a mighty fine maul you got there,” Fjord continued. “Not saying you have to check your weapons at the door or anything, but if we just had an idea of what you’re carrying, it’d help the rest of the evening pass much more smoothly.”

Inivari nodded again and let go of her maul, using her tail to prop it up at her side, prepared to grab for it at an instant’s notice. She drew a warhammer from behind her back, one side of the head a blunt square face, the other a short curved claw, the metal shining dully in the light of the campfire. She set the heavy end on the ground and leaned the handle on her tail as well. As she reached both hands under the front of her cloak, the young goblin raised her crossbow again from where she had placed herself across the fire between the human man and the intruder, but everyone else just lifted an eyebrow at the yellow tiefling.

“Just—” Inivari started to say, unbuckling something at her waist.

“Nott,” Mollymauk chided softly, and the bandaged goblin blinked her large yellow eyes up at them before lowering her weapon again.

Inivari swept her golden eyes around the half-circle of strangers and pulled out a wide leather belt. Two holstered handaxes hung from the places where they would be at either hip, had the belt remained around her waist. She draped the leather over her tail, one axe on either side to balance the weight, and held up her hands to indicate that that was it.

“Gotta be honest,” the human woman said first, her husky voice trying for nonchalance. “I’m a little turned on right now.”

Fjord the half-orc rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, the human man tried to hide an uncomfortable grimace before continuing to stare at a point beyond the yellow tiefling, and Nott the goblin glared up at the young woman.

“She _burned_ me!” she reminded her harshly.

“Yeah, and she fucking made me blind! I’m just saying.” She tossed a shoulder and crossed her arms, seeming to push up her biceps with the backs of her hands.

“She’s like that guy in those stories,” Nott said of the tiefling, still suspicious of her, but grudgingly impressed nonetheless. “Where they just keep pulling weapons out of places, until it’s just ridiculous.” She eyed the quiet newcomer. “What else you got? Any knives, any daggers? Strip search! Spread your cheeks and cough!”

“Calm yourself, Nott,” Mollymauk told their excitable friend, “or we’ll send you to your room.”

“We’re in the middle of a field!”

Mollymauk ignored her, instead turning to the blue tiefling. “Jester, ought you not to offer our guest your services after almost bludgeoning her with a giant piece of candy?”

“I guess,” she sighed, dragging her feet around the fire to stand before the silent tiefling.

They were almost the same height, Jester standing just a bit taller. In a matter of seconds, she held the injured woman’s shoulder, gripped the bolt lodged in her body, and yanked it out.

Inivari’s eyes went wide, and she clenched her jaw to stop herself from screaming as she tried not to choke on her tongue. Her tail flicked reflexively, and her weapons wobbled, but they remained upright. Jester held her free hand over the stained hole in her cloak, grumbled a few indecipherable words, and a soothing warmth washed through Inivari’s body through the pain.

“Technically, you could’ve healed her without ripping out the bolt,” Mollymauk said.

“Technically,” Jester agreed. To make up for it, apparently, she held her hand over the tear in Inivari’s clothing, mumbled some different words, and Inivari watched as the holes in each layer magically closed themselves up, though the bloodstains remained. Inivari had been healed enough times to know that her skin had basically done the same.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a soft, strained whisper.

“Don’t mention it. I mean, really, don’t mention it.”

“Can I have my bolt back?” the goblin asked.

“Sure, Nott.” Jester handed it over when she was on the other side of the small fire once again. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She placed her hand on top of Nott’s head, recited a quiet incantation, and everyone watched as Nott took a deep breath as the Hellish Rebuke’s magic fire damage was somewhat healed.

Mollymauk sheathed their second scimitar, sank down with crossed legs, and invited Inivari to take a seat where she stood with another flourish of their hand. Inivari looked around at the others. One by one, though most of them had been sleeping before her violent arrival, they sat themselves down and considered her expectantly—except for the human man, who just stared into the fire after sitting back down.

She all but collapsed onto her crossed legs, her tail tightening around the handles of her weapons to keep them from scattering as she lay them down, and held her hands out to the fire. “I wasn’t trying to get the jump on you. It’s hard to be sneaky in this mail anyway, but I just wanted to get a little closer before I let you know I was here. Didn’t want you shooting at shapes in the dark.”

Nott chuckled nervously.

“Of course, of course,” the lavender tiefling accepted easily. “We have water, wine. Nott, perhaps you have a sip or two of that paint thinner that you can spare?”

“I don’t drink the hard stuff,” Inivari said before the panicked goblin could hide the flask she had clutched to her chest. All the goblins she had met before had been trying to kill her—no different from this one, then—but her party seemed to like her, so she supposed she wasn’t all bad. “I had wine. I still have water. Ran out of rations a week ago. Used my last tinderbox two, maybe three days ago.”

“Where you headed?” the human woman asked.

“South,” she answered simply.

“Anywhere in particular?”

She shrugged. “Anywhere they need me.”

The woman tipped her head, understanding the words not said. “I got some pocket bacon. Are you hungry? You want some pocket bacon?”

“Yeah. Please. I’d eat my shoes, if it weren’t so fucking cold.”

She reached into one of the pockets of her robes, pulled out a small mass of what might have been meat, and held out her hand around the fire. Inivari caught the congealed bundle in her cupped palms and spread out each strip on a rock near the flames to reheat them, licking the cold grease from her fingers.

“Thanks.”

“What’s your name?”

She looked around at them again. “Inivari.”

“Because you’re such an eeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, little tiefling?” Jester wondered with a gleaming smile.

Inivari cocked her head and just stared at her.

“Forgive her,” Mollymauk said. “We’re all a bit of an acquired taste.”

“And we just seem to bring out the weird in each other,” Fjord added.

“So true. Like our own little carnival,” Mollymauk sighed wistfully. “Fjord’s the sword swallower. Jester’s the lion tamer.” They rolled their hand at the human woman, next in line.

“Oh, uh, I’m Beau. Beauregard. You can call me Beau.”

“Beau is the high-flying acrobat,” Mollymauk went on. “Nott is the trick shot.”

“I like shots,” the goblin said, throwing back a quick swallow from her flask before leaning an elbow on the human man’s thigh.

Mollymauk eyed him and waited, but he was pretending to ignore the conversation. Or maybe he was actually ignoring it—it was hard for Inivari to tell. “Caleb is the fire breather.”

A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw.

The tall, pale, leathered woman with white-tipped black hair was the last in the semi-circle.

“And Yasha is the strongwoman,” Mollymauk finished. Yasha had a small smile for her friend.

“That would make you the clown,” Caleb muttered, his eyes never leaving the heart of the flames.

“ _Touché_ , _Herr_ Widogast. _Touché_.” They winked at him with a red eye.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!” a voice that sounded exactly like Nott’s cried from the back of the cart.

“We woke up Kiri!” Jester gasped, scrambling to her feet. “I’ll go settle her.”

Some minutes later, Jester was still trying to get the bird-child back to sleep, and the congealed grease around the pocket bacon had rendered itself into sizzling edibleness. It hadn’t quite turned yet, and Inivari had a strong stomach besides, and she was making it last, eating each rewarmed piece one slow bite at a time, chewing thoroughly before swallowing, not sure when she would eat again, especially meat.

“I have some jerky,” Nott said, noticing her care, recognizing the restraint to savor the meal because she wasn’t sure when the next one would come. “I think it might be human. It’s probably human. It’s definitely probably human. I got it off a troll that exploded poison.”

“I hate trolls,” Inivari commiserated. “But I don’t eat humans.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Nott shared. “Well, I did once. But that was an accident.”

Fjord buried his face in his hand. “So, where are you from, Inivari?”

“From?”

“Where’s your home?”

She was silent.

“Where’s your family?”

She cocked her head again and just stared.

“What did I miss?” Jester asked, plopping down between Fjord and Beau again.

Before anyone could answer, a long line of lightning jetted across the sky above them, immediately followed by the crack and boom of thunder so loud that it shook the ground beneath them. A moderate rainfall began directly, and everyone put up the hood of their cloaks, save Inivari, who pulled her knees up to her chest and started to rock back and forth, breaths becoming quick and ragged.

“Inivari?” Nott said. “Are you okay?”

“He’s looking for me again,” she whimpered to herself, eyes shut tight. “I forgot to do it. I was so hungry. I was so cold. I can’t believe I forgot. I can’t believe I put you in danger. I can’t let him find me with you.”

“Can’t let who find you, dear?” Mollymauk asked.

Inivari didn’t hear them. “I can’t let him find me with you. He’ll kill you all. It’ll happen again. He’ll kill you all. It’ll be my fault, just like it was before.”

“Okay, what the fuck is she talking about?” Beau said.

Beneath the group, the ground began to shake again, but there was no flash of lightning or boom of thunder to explain it. As the tremors grew stronger, a voice identical to Caleb’s called out from the back of the cart, “Please no. Please no. Please no. Please no.”

“Fucking dammit!” Jester groaned, running over to the cart to calm Kiri.

“What’s happening?” Nott asked, holding Caleb’s coat, who was finally starting to show interest in the stranger, albeit at the worst possible moment, when he thought his friends were in danger.

“It’s just Thaumaturgy,” Mollymauk assured everybody. “She can’t hurt us. It’ll pass in a minute, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, hold on to yer butts and just wait it out,” Fjord told them.

Lightning and thunder streaked and sounded again, the storm blowing closer, and Inivari’s eyes snapped open. Reciting an incantation under her breath, she rubbed her hands together and traced a square in the air in front of herself with her index fingers, then a circle inside of that, and finally a triangle inside of that. She cupped her forehead, dragged her hands down her face and chest, and the travelers watched as a dim white glow grew and spread from where she touched her body, until it seemed to encapsulate her entire self, like a translucent film. And when it appeared to cover her completely, it blinked out, and there was Inivari, who had stopped rocking. The tremors had ceased as well.

“What the fuck?” Beau said. “What the _fuck_?”

“What the fuck just happened?” Nott cried.

“Inivari, dear, are you all right?” Mollymauk asked softly, laying a hand on the ground next to her foot, not quite touching her, but in an attempt at comfort nevertheless.

She nodded, her breathing still ragged but noticeably calmer. “He can’t find me now.”

“Who? Who’s looking for you?” the lavender tiefling asked.

“Maybe we can help,” Fjord said.

“It’s kinda what we do,” Beau told her.

“No.” She shook her head, pulling up her hood at last. “No. You’re strong, but he’ll kill you all.”

“Who?” Mollymauk questioned again.

“Who?” Beau wondered.

“Who?” Nott said.

“You all sound like a bunch of fucking owls,” Caleb told them, stroking the cat who was doing its best to stay under its master’s hood and out of the rain. Nobody but Inivari noticed him replace a palm-sized diamond into the folds of his coat.

Jester returned and took her seat once more. “Thaumaturgy is so cool, I know, but there’s a sleeping bird-child over there, so please keep all future freak-outs within a ten-foot cube please. Do you want to talk about it, Inivari? I’m really easy to talk to, and I give really good advice.”

Fjord and Beau both made a noncommittal noise, and Jester scowled at them, having to look back and forth between them to show her displeasure.

“I will say this for us,” Mollymauk told the yellow tiefling. “We love a good story.”

Inivari considered them, and then the rest of the party, with wet golden eyes. “If you promise not to go after him. You can’t beat him. Maybe one day, but he’s too strong for you now. He’s so much more powerful than you. He’ll kill you all, and it’ll be my fault again.”

“Caleb’s pretty powerful,” Nott pointed out. “Caleb will probably become the greatest wizard ever. But not tonight, you’re right.”

Caleb, lips pursing and unpursing in indecision and embarrassment, patted his goblin friend’s shoulder, eyes fixed on a point behind Inivari.

“I think I speak for the lot of us when I say that we will not go after this man who has you so frightened,” Mollymauk said. “At least, not for the foreseeable future, as we are currently on assignment, and because someone as capable as you believes that whoever it is will strike us down. And I quite like being alive, thank you very much.”

Inivari nodded at them.

“Maybe you should tell us about it,” Beau suggested. “So that we don’t accidentally go after him. Like, if we’re chasing down someone bad, and we recognize him, we could be, like, _Hey, it’s that guy Inivari was talking about. Okay, guy, catch you later. Not today._ ”

The yellow tiefling raised an eyebrow at her, seeing through the bullshit, but realizing that she wanted to tell them too. She felt compelled to tell them, but not for any magical reason, and not as a warning, technically. Telling the story was the only way she could fight him—for now.

“When I was…” She took a deep breath. “When I was little, my f-family, my clan—we lived in the forest, a great forest. From maps that I’ve seen, I think it was the Cyrengreen.”

“You _think_?” Jester asked. “You mean, you don’t know?”

Inivari shook her head. “We kept to ourselves mostly. Hunting, gathering. We had a garden. We went to town to trade if any of us needed new tools, a bigger coat, a new cooking pot. We had furs, plump vegetables when they were in season. My father could whittle any animal out of a block of wood, and those trinkets could be traded for new boots for a growing girl.” She thumbed away a tear from the corner of her eye. “One day…it started to rain. Torrential…torrential rain. Thunder, lightning, wind. I thought our hut would blow away. Then the screaming started.”

“What the fuck?” Beau said under her breath.

“We were none of us fighters, but my mother was a healer, and my father… My father knew his way around a knife. They went to see if they could help any way that they could. That was the last time I saw them—any of them—alive again.” She wrapped her arms around herself and scooted closer to the fire. “The screaming stopped. The wind stopped, the rain stopped. The thunder and lightning—it all stopped. I went outside. The whole village was under water, almost up to my knees. It was red, red with their blood.”

“Whose blood?” Nott asked.

“Everyone’s,” Inivari stated simply. “We lived in a circle, so we had each other’s backs, so we could protect each other. I went outside because I thought it was safe. But there, scattered in the middle of the ring, were all of their bodies—what was left of them anyway. And him.”

“Who?” Fjord asked.

“The storm-giant,” she shared quietly. “He had slaughtered them all, my whole…my whole family. He ripped…he ripped them apart. And he saw me, and he just…smiled. And he laughed. And he lifted up his hand and pointed at me, and just said… _Witness._ And then it felt like my body was on fire—even though fire has never really hurt me, but this kind of fire did—and I passed out, and when I woke up, the water was gone, the storm-giant was gone. But the mud was stained with the blood of my clan, and there the pieces of them lay in the center of the huts.”

“Holy fuck,” Beau whispered.

“I dug a hole, a big hole. I didn’t know… I couldn’t tell…who was…what was…” She shook her head. “I buried them all together. And then I ran. And I’ve been running ever since. And I’ve been learning, training, fighting, getting stronger, until I’m strong enough to find the storm-giant and destroy him for destroying my family.”

“All by yourself?” Nott wondered.

“I’ve only got myself.”

“We could help,” she offered reluctantly. “Not right now, of course. We’re on a pretty tight schedule. But one day, when we’ve learned a few more tricks, maybe.”

“I’ve never heard of a storm-giant doing something like that before,” Beau said. “They can be violent sometimes, yeah, but they’re not bloodthirsty.”

“Right, and tieflings are devils, half-orcs are cutthroats, and goblins eat children,” Inivari returned.

“That was _one_ time!” Nott defended. “I just took the bowl! It would’ve been rude not to take the bowl!”

“Stereotypes can be a little inaccurate sometimes, yeah?” Inivari told them. “And this wasn’t an ordinary storm-giant. He had been corrupted.”

“By whom?” Mollymauk asked.

Inivari sighed, looked around at each of them again, and rose to her feet, leaving her weapons on the ground. She pushed back the flaps of her cloak, grabbed the hems of her shirts, and started to lift the bunch of layers up her body.

“Hey, this isn’t Burning Man,” Nott began. Then, “ _Holy shit!_ ” she screeched as Inivari modestly exposed her torso.

Across the left side of her abdomen and even reaching around part of her ribs, the jagged outline of a large red eye and one teardrop, as if it were weeping blood, was scarred into her yellow skin.

“Holy fuck,” Beau said again. “That’s a fucking brand.”

“Does it hurt?” Jester asked, grimacing sympathetically.

“Only when I think he’s looking for me. When there’s a thunderstorm that’s close, like this one. Could be all in my head. Could be real. I don’t know. I don’t like to take chances. I know a spell. It hides me from him. I forgot today. I’m sorry.”

“Cure Wounds,” Beau and Nott prodded their blue friend. “Cure Wounds, Cure Wounds.”

Jester started to get to her feet.

“Don’t waste your energy,” Inivari told her, dropping her shirts and sinking back down. “I’ve had healers from all across the Empire try to get rid of the thing—or to fade it some, at least. It’s there to stay. It’s why I was spared.”

Jester gasped. “Witness,” she whispered, and then pouted pityingly.

“Do you like cats?” Caleb asked suddenly, staring past Inivari again.

“Yeah, who doesn’t?”

Fjord sneezed.

Caleb snapped his fingers, and the orange cat around his neck disappeared. Another snap, and she felt a soft, warm weight on her own shoulders.

“Frumpkin, be nice,” Caleb directed. The cat around her neck began to purr. “He likes chin scratches.”

Inivari nodded and reached up to scritch Frumpkin’s chin. He pushed his head into her hand, and she blinked the tears out of her wet eyes.

“That red eye,” Caleb said slowly, “is the sigil of Gruumsh, the Ruiner.”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“You are being pursued by a servant of a Betrayer God. Why?”

“Because I refuse to be a fucking witness,” she told him. “It’s exactly what he wants, to make people afraid, to spread panic, discord, to rile up the fury and bloodlust of his Ravagers as they slaughter in his name. I will never do that. I pass through villages, and I hunt the burglars, and the monsters, and one time there was a troll, but I had a lot of help with that one. And I tell my story, and I tell them that there are people and things doing evil in this world, but there is also good. And if we keep doing good, if we never stop doing good, even one little piece of good at a time, then we can keep the darkness at bay.”

“Are you also a bard?” Jester asked.

“Not a big fan of bards,” she admitted.

“Yeah, bards suck,” Nott said. “What are you going to do when you…when you defeat the storm-giant? Gonna settle down, have a bunch of kids, whittle some wooden animals?”

“I’m going to keep training, keep fighting monsters, keep learning, until I’m strong enough to take on the Ruiner himself.”

“You’re going to…cross the planes and attempt to kill a Betrayer God?” Nott questioned.

“I’m going to try, yes.”

“That’s insane,” the goblin pointed out. “Well, I’m rooting for you.” She took a swig from her flask.

“If you’re going against a Betrayer God,” Beau said, “you should align yourself with someone like the Archeart. Since they and the Ruiner are, like…” She punched her fists together. “Become their champion or something. They could teach you a few things that might come in handy for that showdown.”

“One day, perhaps,” Inivari considered. “If that is what it takes. But for now, I serve no gods, only the people.”

“Well, we wish you all the luck in your journey, Inivari,” Fjord said.

“Thanks.”

“Now, if y’all will excuse me, I need some shuteye, since my watch in next.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jester said, following him over to their bedrolls and blankets around the cart. She climbed into the back with Kiri.

By that time, the rain had let up to no more than a drizzle. Yasha looked up at the calm gray clouds blanketing the night sky and then wordlessly returned to her spot as well. Beau watched her go.

“You know, I’ve heard a lot of stories, a lot of whispers,” she brought up to Inivari. “But I’ve never heard of a storm-giant cutting down an entire clan of tiefling in the Cyrengreen Forest. Or any forest, for that matter.”

“That’s because I’ve been doing my job.”

“You don’t think information like that would be useful, should be shared?” Beau challenged. “Keeping tabs on the Ravagers, all the obsessive, bloodthirsty bogeymen?”

“I tell my story,” Inivari said. “But I do not spread panic. When I leave a village, they know that danger stalks the earth, but they are not afraid of every bump in the night, every unseen monster in the shadows. They have information to share, but maybe you haven’t been asking the right questions. Or you’re asking them the wrong way. Maybe you are feeding the fire, while I am seeking to quench it.”

Beau stuck out her chin.

Nott leaned over to her and whispered loudly, “Do you want me to wake up Jester to heal that burn?”

“Fuck you, Nott.”

“Yeah, I deserved that.” She sat back and took another drink.

Beau rose lithely to her feet and stalked over to her bedroll.

“What an incredible history,” Mollymauk mentioned. “Absolutely incredible. You wear your clan’s memory like a sword and shield. It’s remarkable.”

“Molly never had a family,” Nott told her.

“True, as far as I know,” Mollymauk agreed.

“Crawled out of a grave two years ago, been the weirdo you see before you ever since.”

“All true, all true.”

“I envy you,” Inivari said to them.

“That’s fair. But there are two sides to every coin. It’s hard to know where you’re going when you don’t know where you’ve come from.”

“That’s fair,” she echoed. “So, yeah, I carry their memory. And sometimes it’s enough just to make sure what happened to me doesn’t happen to anyone else. But other times…I wonder… I can’t even fathom it, but I wonder what it would be like…to stop, and go back, and find a point, and just…have something new grow from it. And just wipe out…wipe out everything from before.”

“Miss Inivari,” Caleb brought up, still avoiding eye contact, “I had been about to set an Alarm around our campsite when my little friend noticed you out in the grass. I see that you are familiar with abjuration magic, if you would be interested in learning how this particular spell works.”

“That’s code for he has things to tell you,” Nott shared. “We’ll try not to eavesdrop.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mollymauk scoffed mildly.

Inivari followed the wizard to the edge of the camp. He reached into a pocket and took out a tiny bell and a piece of silver wire.

“You can cast Nondetection at will,” he stated rather than asked, looking down at the items in his hands. “Without components.”

“Yes.”

“You know _Svirfneblin_ magic.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“When I ran...I thought I would be safer from the storm-giant if I was underground, away from the weather. I went down into the Underdark, and I found...other kinds of monsters. And then the deep gnomes found me. And they saved me. And they taught me how to fight...and some other things. Their magic was only part of it. They scratched my back, and I scratched theirs. But I never forgot about the storm-giant, and I left when I thought I was strong enough, before he could find me with them and hurt them.”

“You are lucky you can protect yourself, can protect the ones you are sometimes with.”

“I know.”

He reached down his shirt and pulled out a silver amulet on a chain. “I cannot cast Nondetection at will, and I need to spend my gold on more important things than diamond dust, so I have this.”

“Someone is looking for you too,” she stated rather than asked.

“ _Ja._ ”

“You’re lucky you can protect yourself, can protect the ones you’re with,” she echoed again.

He flashed a small smile. “ _Ja._ ”

“I’m always afraid if…if I get sick, injured…if I were somehow unable to cast again,” she said softly. “I forgot today, just because I was too worried about stupid food, and I don’t know what would’ve happened if he’d found me. I’m sorry for putting you in danger.”

Caleb replaced the amulet against his skin. “If you’re asking how much gold another one would cost, I cannot help you. I took this from a bad man who worked for…for an _evil_ man. It could be _fünf hundert_ , it could be _fünfzig tausend_.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it sounds like a lot.”

He held up a finger. “You are heading south, _ja_?”

“South, yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough to buy some warmer boots, at least.” She shuffled in the layers of cloth wrapped around her feet.

“ _Ja_ , good. You have been to Zadash?”

“I’ve…heard of it.”

“Good, good. Go to Zadash. Go to the Pentamarket. Look for _The Invulnerable Vagrant_. There is a man—there are men. Pumat Sol. Pumat Sol will help you. What did I just say?”

“Zadash. Pentamarket. _Invulnerable Vagrant._ Pumat Sol.”

“ _Ja_ , good, good. Tell them you are a friend of the Mighty Nein. Tell them the man who keeps buying them out of wizard paper and ink sent you. It will probably not save you any money, but if anyone can get you an Amulet of Proof, it is Pumat Sol. If he does not have one to sell, he might look out for one for you, or he might be able to enchant an ordinary silver amulet for you. But again, I could not guess at a cost.”

“Cost is not an issue. I’ll scrimp and save until I can afford it.”

“Also, go to the King’s Hall. There are jobs you could hire yourself out for, problems you could deal with, monsters you could vanquish, skulls you could knock. Some of them pay well.”

“Thanks, Caleb.”

“ _Ja_. And Beauregard—she can be an asshole sometimes, but it is something to think about. If you survive long enough to face off against a Betrayer God...” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he had just said that. “You will need help. And you will need to be the best. And you will need to be so much more than what you believe yourself capable of. You may need to pledge yourself to a Prime Deity, or you may need to consider your history with magic and involve yourself in the arcane studies.”

“Learn to be a wizard as well as a fighter?”

“Or a paladin, if you want help from the Archeart. Consider it.” He blinked. "If they even want you."

"How do you mean?”

"Well, the Ruiner's sworn enemy is the Archeart, _ja_ , because they shot out his eye. But the Archeart's sworn enemy isn't the Ruiner. It is the Spider Queen, for turning the drow away from the light.”

“Oh.”

“So, they may want your pledge, or they may not even want to bother.”

“Oh.”

“But you are hoping, ultimately, to go after a Betrayer God, and so...it would not hurt to inquire.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Ja._ ” His brow furrowed. "Be aware, though. I have read things... When one pledges oneself, one's life, to be a champion of the gods...especially with a formidable intention such as yours...do not be surprised if and when your life is, in fact, the price of your triumph."

“Oh." She sighed in resignation. "I understand. Honestly, even for the chance to stanch his madness and the devastation it wreaks...that's fair. Maybe then I'd get to see my family again." She tilted her head. "But maybe not. Maybe that's just fairy tales. But at least, I hope, the pain would stop. The emptiness. Can pain be empty?" she asked, more to herself than to Caleb. "How does that work?"

Absorbed in her own melancholic thoughts, she didn't notice Caleb wrinkle his nose in an unpleasant sort of grimace as a reluctant wave of empathy washed through him.

Unconsciously, she reached up to her shoulder to stroke Frumpkin's neck. He _mrpp_ ed and headbutted her hand again to convey his pleasure and want of more attention, and she blinked away her memories and unshed tears. "And if I want to be a wizard instead, will I be able to conjure a cat like Frumpkin?”

Caleb’s jaw clenched. “There is no cat like Frumpkin.” And he snapped him off of her shoulders and onto his own.

“No, of course not, you’re right.”

“If you take the time to learn the spell, you will be able to conjure a familiar of your own, _ja_ ,” he said more gently.

“That’s what I meant.”

“ _Ja._ ” He cleared his throat. “I cannot talk while I lay the alarm, so just follow me quietly _bitte_.”

When they had made their way around the perimeter of the campsite, the ritual cast, Caleb slipped the components back into a pocket.

“I understand what you were saying,” he said, “about not letting this storm-giant, and the Ravagers, and evil in general use fear as a weapon. People like that…depend on their reputation, and it is good when you can shape their name and reputation against them.”

“Just because you can’t fight, doesn’t mean you can’t fight back.”

He stared off into the darkness. “ _Ja._ What did you mean…when you said that it was your fault that they had died, that it would be your fault if something were to happen to us?”

Inivari released a heavy breath. “That storm-giant wanted a witness. I was just a scared little girl. It would have been easy enough for my terror to infect others, to spread across the region, to feed into the bloodlust. Sometimes it’s easy to believe that...I made my clan a target. And I am terrified of what will happen to me if I forget to cast again, and the storm-giant is able to find me. But I am more terrified of what will happen to the people I’m with, if they’ll be used as another example, if they’ll be cut down too, to try to teach me some kind of lesson. I can’t watch anyone else I care for die.”

Caleb nodded tersely. “ _Ja. Ja._ Well, I am glad that Mollymauk stopped us from killing you.”

He punched her arm, shook his hand out, and turned and walked back to the fire without her. After a moment, she returned as well. Mollymauk was on their feet to welcome her back.

“If it’s all the same to you, Inivari, I believe I’ll turn in. You’re welcome to share my space under the cart, no funny business. I’m just keeping my word to make sure nothing happens to you here tonight.”

“Sure, yeah. Good-night, Nott. Caleb.”

“ _Gute Nacht_ ,” Caleb said softly. Nott was leaning drowsily into his side.

Inivari crouched and pocketed the few remaining pieces of bacon, grabbed her weapons, and carried them to the cart, where Mollymauk ushered her under first, crawling in behind her after she had situated herself on her bedroll.

“Thank you, Mollymauk. Good-night.”

“Sweet dreams, dear.”

***

Molly woke for a second time from underneath the cart, somewhere in the middle of Fjord and Jester’s watch, not from the sounds of magical energy and physical combat, but from quiet whimpers beside them and a slithering constriction around their leg. They turned to Inivari, who had curled away into a ball and was clutching the head of her maul. Her tail had creeped over to her new companion, and was snaking around their ankle for comfort.

Molly rolled onto their side and scooched over until they were spooning her—no funny business—slowly laying an arm around her waist.

“Hush now,” they whispered, and Inivari’s breathing settled almost immediately. “You’re safe tonight. Mollymauk Tealeaf always keeps their word.”

***

Molly awoke once more with the first peeks of light over the foggy horizon. Inivari and her weapons were gone, but there was a crumpled scrap of parchment balled up in their hand. They smoothed it out and read it over. In small, blocky letters, written in blood, was the name _Inivari Itotre_.

Molly smiled to themselves, stowed the note in their coat, and crawled out into the cool open air to stretch. Caleb was at what remained of the campfire. Whether or not he had moved at all throughout the night was anyone’s guess. Beau and Yasha sat upright but unconscious on the other side of the fire, their heads resting against each other’s.

“Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb said without looking at them.

“Mr. Caleb.”

“Our new friend departed an hour or so ago,” he shared. “My brain tinkled…”

“Your brain tinkled? I knew humans were odd, but I had no idea your anatomy worked like that.”

“My brain tinkled,” Caleb said again, unfazed, staring into the fire, “and I made sure she was not absconding with any of our possessions, since the muscle fell asleep.” He tilted his head at the two women. “And I let her go.”

“Many thanks for that.”

“You have ways to find her again, should you so choose.”

“Should _we_ so choose, yes.”

“Oh. _Ja._ _We._ ”

“Wee? You just went! Might want to have that looked at, _Herr_ Widogast.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at the yellow flames and said nothing.

***

It wasn’t even two weeks later that Inivari, having found her way to Zadash, into Pumat Sols’ acquaintance, and to _The Leaky Tap_ tavern, was currently, over breakfast, weighing her money-making options from the notices at the King’s Hall. While she waited for her oatmeal and bacon at a corner table, she had unfurled her heirloom leather roll, lined with the knives, chisels, gouges, and other tools of a woodcarver, and was currently working on a wooden bear trinket to replace the one missing from her satchel ever since that night with the Mighty Nein. She wouldn’t make any accusations if she saw them again, but she took a guess that Nott the goblin had had some sticky fingers while she slept. She was all right with it. As long as she could scrounge up the wood and had the downtime, she could more often than not create something interesting and pretty enough to sell or trade for whatever she needed.

“Inivari?” a familiar voice rang out, and she looked up and around, expecting to see a blue tiefling.

Of the few patrons in the room this early in the morning, none were her erstwhile sparring partners and camping buddies.

“Inivari Itotre, this is Jester, from the Mighty Nein,” the voice said again, and she realized that whatever means she was using to communicate with her, it was magical and private. “We just wanted to tell you that it was nice to meet you, and that—”

The message cut off, and Inivari almost started to reply when Jester came through again.

“Sorry, word limit. We wanted to tell you that there were some bad people up here, and we tried to fight them off, and Molly—”

The words stopped abruptly, and her heart beat faster at the context and the mention of Mollymauk.

“Fucking dammit!” the voice shouted into her mind a few seconds later. “Molly died. It's really sad. Sorry. But we fucking murdered the bad guys! Molly’s buried north of the Crispvale Thicket, along the Glory—”

Jester’s disembodied voice fell silent, and Inivari waited, but however she had managed to reach her to begin with, its limits had been reached.

Mindful of her own word count, she wiped her wet golden eyes, swallowed the sudden heaviness in her throat, and whispered, “I understand. Thank you, Jester. I’m sorry too. Perhaps one day we shall meet again, Mighty Nein. Good luck.”

It was enough, she told herself. It was enough, because it had to be.

By the time her food arrived, she had blocked out a rather decent bear on its hind legs. She set it on the table, and it stood on its own, so it was well balanced. In her free time over the coming days, she would carve more detail out of its face and fur.

As she ate, she thought about where to go. Her trinkets would fetch her some gold, but from the price the Pumats quoted her for an enchanted amulet they either came across or eventually created for her, she would have to carve a lot of them. Enlisting in the Crownsguard or Righteous Brand were both a hard no. And others’ secrets were not hers to tell.

That left being a hired gun for traveling merchants. That was doable. For a time. And if she happened to make her way north, to pay her respects to a brief bright star and a group who had left her better than when they had found her, then she happened to make her way north.

It was enough. Because it had to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I just...wanted to explore my character's background, and dropping them in this universe helped me do that. I also needed to do something to process Molly's death, and this helped me do that.


End file.
